"You can call this a confession if you must. Last year ... I murdered my husband. I did it with malice aforethought - a premeditated, cold blooded killing. No. On second thought, let's not call this a confession. A confession implies acknowledgement of guilt or remorse. I don't feel the least bit guilty and I certainly have no remorse. The bastard got what he deserved." With these words, Kat, a well-to-do suburban housewife with a flexible definition of morality, launches into her story. She has found ample evidence that her securities analyst husband, George, is cheating on her. But she has also discovered something else: George has squirreled away millions of dollars in secret accounts, violating every law in the SEC handbook. Claiming those assets in a divorce would alert authorities to George's crimes, and the resulting punitive fines might well wipe out their net worth. As Kat puts it, "The notion of George in prison was not so satisfying that I was willing to become poor." George's death becomes Kat's goal, and she carries out what she believes is the perfect murder with careful attention to detail. But she hasn't counted on a debonair district attorney with his eyes on higher political office, an aggressive SEC lawyer chafing because George died just as he was to be brought in for questioning, or an ambitious mistress with her own agenda. Funny, irreverent and introspective, Murder Imperfect traces Kat's tale through a roller coaster of financial shenanigans, ex-lovers and courtroom dramatics. If the essence of suspense is not, 'whodunit' but, rather 'will they get away with it?', Murder Imperfect will leave you guessing right to the very end.